


Blackout

by phoebesmum



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebesmum/pseuds/phoebesmum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dan wakes up, it's dark. Too dark. Luckily, Casey is very resourceful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> Written November 2006 for the Greatest Journal Emergency Cuddlefic-a-thon: the day Live Journal went down and fandom panicked in its droves.

It's cold. It's dark. It's … not silent; the rush of traffic outside the window and five storeys down is strident as ever. Maybe more so; there aren't usually this many car horns blaring - are there?

Dan wakes slowly, aware that something's wrong, but too muzzy to figure out just what. He lies still for a moment, then reaches out a hand, fumbling, for the bedside light. Nothing. _Bulb_, is his first thought, then, _fuse_. He sits up, says, out loud, "_Fuck!_" and drags the blanket up around his shoulders. The room's _freezing_.

_Power_, he deduces, and sighs, reaches out again and gropes around for his cell. It's supposed to have internet access, but he's never managed to work it out. Now, he supposes, would be as good a time as any.

Twenty minutes later, he's located Google News, which tells him the city's experiencing sporadic blackouts. Time well spent; he'd already figured that much for himself. And he's colder than ever. He's tempted to go back to sleep and write off the whole day, but feels that would be spineless. The thing to do, clearly, is get up, shower - will there be any warm water left from last night? Somehow, he suspects not - walk to work, and spend the day writing his script longhand and faking a bunker-mentality camaraderie that he's far from feeling.

It sounds horrible, but he guesses it has to be done. Still: a few more minutes under the covers won't hurt. Will it?

*

There's a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He mutters a protest, swats it away. Something liquid and hot spatters onto his shoulder. He sniffs, and opens one eye.

"Coffee?" he says hopefully, and, waking more fully, "Is the power back?"

"Nope," Casey's voice says, out of the darkness. The hand finds his, and thrusts a mug into it, carefully closing his fingers and making his grip secure.

"So, how - "

"Fondue set," Casey says, smugly. "The one you laughed about. It took _hours_. If you spill any more, I'll kill you."

No chance of that. Dan clutches the mug to him like a treasure, while Casey produces candles and matches and, eventually, a faint, guttering light, just enough to make out his profile, frowning slightly as he concentrates. "There!" he says at last, satisfied, stands back, and flashes Dan a cocky grin. "Impressed?"

"It's a proud day for the Boy Scouts." Dan sips his coffee. It's pretty terrible. It's _wonderful_. "You speak to Dana?"

"M'm." The bed dips as Casey settles onto its edge. "We're supposed to stand by. The emergency generators should see us through, but they don't want anyone in till later."

"How much later?"

"Just 'later'. They'll call."

"Oh." Regretfully, Dan acknowledges that the last of the coffee's gone for good. He sets the cup down. "So, what're we supposed to do till then?"

Casey's smile gleams white in the candlelight; he reaches out a hand, and runs it along Dan's bare arm.

"I have some ideas," he says.

***


End file.
